


Sway

by owlish_peacock



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlish_peacock/pseuds/owlish_peacock
Summary: Beneath the pulsing lights, two souls meet. One-shot.





	Sway

Midnight waves met the sand in the wilds of her body, undulating with every footstep, every beat of the drum. A willow, softly swaying against the corrosion of sweat and humanity. Her hips were a metronome, keeping his heart in steady rhythm.

A blink, a collision of gemstones flashing beneath the violent illumination from the ceiling. Then, a curving cheekbone, a crooking finger.

_Did she mean me?_

A flash of teeth, and a head nod. That was all he needed.

His feet hovered above the ground, floating toward the siren that beckoned him. He could not resist her call, nor did he want to. Bodies flashed in his periphery, dance-drunk and lifted. The pulsing beat of movement shook him, jostled his body, but never his mind. No, his mind was only on her.

He reached, reached toward the curves and bends that created her. Small digits caressed his arm.

“You made it.” Eyes of a lion searched his own, pupils dilated with the liquor and smoke that filled the room.

“Aye.”

He gripped her with a confidence he didn’t have, and pulled her flush. Her giggle was spirited and far-off, but held no hesitation. Fingers weaved through curls, pulling delicately. Pleasurably. Lips brushed his ear, breath whirring, drowning out other noises.

“Claire.”

An introduction. A promise that he would utter that name through the night.

“Jamie.”

“Mmm.” A sound of acceptance, but it vibrated through his body like a moan. She pressed closer, her softness molding to his hardness.

“I must admit,” he breathed. “I’m no much of a dancer.”

“Then, I suppose you shall follow my lead.”

And lead she did. Gyrating, shaking, swaying to the heavy beat that fell upon their feet. He felt every movement within his own body, echoing her. It was a tangle, a stand-off. But who would be left standing?

He felt his body bead sweat from exertion and barely contained pleasure. She was torturing him, blessing him.

He was overtaken, overwhelmed. With all his strength, he pressed himself to her completely, connected from lips to toes.

She didn’t pull away.

Another battle, this time with tongues battling for dominance. But there would be no loser. And, as they exited the crowd, they knew they would both come out on top that evening.


End file.
